Shadow Stealer
by Shadoweyes1
Summary: Rewrite of 'In The Shadows We Dance' Shadows are never heard, shadows are never seen, shadows can tear your soul in two...Dilandau didn't care... Dilandau x OC R&R please!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Escaflowne, or Dilandau or any lyrics that may appear within the fic…They should mostly be lyrics from The Used and Disturbed but if more jump in there…well I'll be sure to tell you about it!

**A/N **Hello, you're probably wondering why this fic is back up, well I was reading through the reviews the other day and Taka Shira's new burst of creative energy (and the fact that she said I was her favourite author, can you believe it? I sure can't… I mean she's so much better than me!) Inspired me to rewrite the fic 'In the Shadows we Dance' complete with a new title. I mean after all, looking back I was younger when I wrote it and so didn't have enough writing experience…now though I hope to create a new (well, it will have the same charactersthough a slightly different plot)fic from the ashes of the old one. The original will still be up on my account until I have finished this version.

**Additional Notes: **The story is going to be told in third person, because I have wavered off the path of writing in first person…

**Now, ON WITH THE FIC!**

**Shadow Stealer**

**Prologue**

_A shadow is never heard; a shadow is never seen, never known and never found. A shadow is deadly and contains more terror than any person on the planet. Each person sees it as something different, as something more terrible than their nightmares. Something that hounds their every step when they walk home at night, something that peers at them from behind towering trees, its invisible claws clutching at their ankles and slowing them down. _

_People used to say that the unknown and unexplainable was a miracle in its self. But what miracle turns grown men into weeping insomniacs frightened to close their eyes at night? What miracle leaves children shaking and parentless in the cold? What shadow steals away the hunger in a starving woman's stomach and then leaves her corpse for the clamouring masses of carrion?_

_There is one shadow, a shadow that moves faster than others, moves swifter and more silently than anything in the world. A shadow that has no name and no home. A shadow that only the informed know about, a shadow that has no face, except for the one seen moments before a man's death. _

_That shadow is an assassin, a mercenary and a thief. That shadow is the best in the world…_

* * *

_**Another dream that will never come true,**_

_**Just to compliment your sorrow,**_

_**Another life that I've taken from you,**_

_**A gift to add on to your pain and suffering**_

* * *

****

She pressed her back up against the dark wall as the rain lashed in sheets from the dark skies above. Her lips were pressed in a thin line as her clever mahogany eyes darted about up and down the deserted alleyway.

To a passer-by she would look only like another shadow amidst the dark and dreary world, another moving form that lived and rotted within the deep dankness of despair. They wouldn't make out her lithe figure and they wouldn't recognise that what they were looking at was a young woman swamped within the masses of a long dark coat after all, why should they? Were they to look closely enough and be unfortunate enough to catch just a mere fleeting glimpse of her head and face they would surely recoil in horror or pass out from sheer shock, only to awake babbling and unbelieved by all they knew. For on the shadow-girl's head was a smooth, black painted skull. Not just any skull, it was the upper jaw and head of a large dog, possibly a wolf, no one really knew for sure, and its jagged sharp teeth pointed down at vicious angles before her eyes and nose. It rested on her face like a helmet, disguising all but her lips, chin and eyes from view. Her eyes sparkled through the skull's eyes holes; they were heavily lined with black kohl and dark pastel. Underneath the skull lay a thick black wolf pelt, its shoulder and back fur running down to the small of her back over the cloak, and the upper part pushed under the skull so that the pricked ears were visible through the top of the bone. There were two small holes drilled into the sides of the skull where her real ears were so that she could hear everything that was going on around her.

To anyone unlucky enough to catch sight of her moving through the darkness she would look just like a black wolf moving about on two legs. But of course, no such animals existed.

She pressed her hands against the wall, feeling the rough brickwork through her thin black gloves as the rain washed over her, sliding down her skull headdress and plastering her cloak to her skin. She waited for a few moments until the people out walking around had passed the place where she was hiding and then she pushed herself away from the wall and darted further into the darkness.

Her knee high, heelless boots thudded quietly against the muddy floor as she ran matching her heart-rate perfectly. She was racing towards the palace of Deheria, the small but powerful province that had the misfortune to rest next to Zaibach. It was her intent to murder the crowning prince in his sleep. She had been employed for the task three days ago by a nameless proprietor that had grown tired of waiting around for royal intervention on some matter or other. It wasn't her concern if things went wrong for him; all she cared about was doing the job and getting paid.

Lightning forked above her in the sky, and for one brief moment her form was illuminated in the dark as she ran from one end of the road to the other, slipping into the darkness and the shadows around her as she went.

She ran on, she was too close to her goal now to give up on it. The palace was in her sights, the tall foreboding walls were rising up on the horizon, blocking all but the main palace tower from view. Another view moments and she would be at the main gates. Tiredness did not register in her mind as a factor, she had been in the business for years, lending to her great strength of will and stamina.

She was the best at what she did, no one in the world knew her name and no one was ever going to. No one had ever seen her face, those that had had died mere moments later. Sometimes she did not even request pay if she already knew about and despised a selected victims, and sometimes she even indulged in mercy killing or killing those that had done others wrong. She wasn't a force of good trying to help the world along; she wasn't a vigilante justice girl, all she was a nameless shadow that killed for money, revenge, pity and pleasure. There was nothing good about her. She was an unrivalled force throughout the world, unrivalled and untamed. Some would say she wasn't even human.

She was Death.

* * *

**_Another nightmare about to come true,_**

_**Will manifest tomorrow,**_

_**Another love that I've taken from you,**_

_**Lost in time on the edge of suffering**_

* * *

****

She reached the palace walls and tensed her muscles under her. Her boots hit the floor heavily as she pushed herself upwards in a single strong bound, her gloved hands reaching out for the top of the tall wall.

The rain had made the wall slippery and her hands slipped against the surface as she hooked her fingers into the small cracks and holes. Her sharpened fingernails, thick from years of use, dug themselves into the very brick of the wall to help keep her from falling. Satisfied that she had a good grip, she braced her feet against the vertical side of the wall and then swung backwards, using her momentum to swing her legs up and over the wall. Her hands released the bricks as she flew the short distance through the air and then landed safely inside the royal grounds.

She dropped into a crouch immediately and pressed herself back against the wall as her eyes scanned the front of the palace looking for entrance points and easily accessible windows.

Rainwater dripped off the fangs of the wolf skull and she was distracted for a moment by the gentle dripping sound they created as they splashed downwards and hit the upper part of her boots. She raised her eyes seconds later, banishing all thoughts that would further distract her or endanger her pay check.

There was a lit window, half way up the main tower; the glass pain had been pushed open no doubt to let the cool air in and the person within had forgotten to draw the thick draping curtains. If memory served her well, which it often did, that would mean that the window was one of the view ways to enter the Prince's room. Third window from the left she had been told, that was the young Prince's room. Three windows from the left. And lo and behold, the lit window was three windows from the end of the tower. The gods of fortune were certainly smiling down on her tonight.

What made her job even simpler however was the tall gardening trellis that covered most of the tower, the crisscrossing pieces of wood making a perfect impromptu ladder. She frowned slightly; did these people have no sense of safety? Or were they simply to arrogant to care?

Looking left and right to check for danger she made a quick and calculated sprint to the trellis, practically jumping at it and beginning her swift climb towards the victim's window. It was lucky that the trellis went to right under the window; else she would have been stuck as to how to cover the additional distance. That was not the case however and she foresaw the ease with which she could complete her job. Her victim had in fact, by placing the pretty but sturdy gardening lattice below his window, sped along his death.

She had no idea how old her victim was, she had seen photos of him that her employer had left in a secret location, but she couldn't discern his age. He was perhaps twenty or twenty-one. He was going to have a short life.

She hoped in a disjointed way that he had accomplished something that made his short time on earth worth while. It was no skin off her nose if he hadn't, but it was nice sometimes to think that all the lives and lights she extinguished had not lived like hapless sheep, following the rest of the silly crowd.

Her hands clutched at the window sill and she leaned up to peer through the opened glass. The room was large, even by royal standards and the walls were decked with luxurious dark red velvet, the four poster bed draped in silk that was the same colour. The light source of the room, turned out to be just a small candle-lit chandelier at the top of the room.

Her eyes darted around the room, seeking out the Prince as the rain continued to lash itself against her back, soaking her to the bone. She lowered herself from sight again as soon as she locked onto the Prince's young body standing in the corner staring at a portrait of himself hung upon the wall.

How very vain of him. Still, she supposed that will looks like his he could afford to be vain. Had she been a girl that had more beauty than brains she would probably have gone about courting him. He had the golden dusted looks that only Prince's out of fairytales had. Curly golden locks and big blue eyes, finished off with a finely tailored tunic and trousers, enamoured with fancy and sparkling jewels.

She didn't like men like that, they traded on their looks, like most women did and did not expect to do once ounce of hard work in their lives, more content to let others do it for them. They were the type of people that won wars by sitting in their throne rooms watching the battlefield while surrounded by an expensive guard.

She had killed many like him in her time.

She pulled herself up onto the window sill silently, trying not to disturb his musings, it would just not do to have him cry out and alert others that may be residing in the house.

She slid into the room quietly and placed her feet upon the richly carpeted floor, not really caring that the mud on the soles of her boots was transferring to the dark red threads. She stood for a moment, her chest rising and falling with her pulse as she watched the Prince squander away what little time he had left by admiring himself.

Thunder rumbled in the sky outside and she took the opportunity to reach down to the black leather belt strapped around her waist and grasp the hilt of one of her four throwing daggers. The hilt was cold to her touch as she curled her fingers lovingly around it and drew the deadly blade out from its black sheath. The ring of the metal was disguised by the rumbling of the weather, shortly followed by the crack of lightning as it arced downwards from the heavens.

The Prince jumped at the sound and turned to the window with a rueful look, probably chiding himself on being so jumpy and stilled immediately when his eyes caught sight of the monster stood before him. The black skull shone and flickered in the candle-light and a pair of dark painted lips curled up into a sadistic smile before the expression faded back into serenity.

She stared at him calmly for a few seconds, her left arm, the one holding the dagger, raised slightly away from her body as he stared at her, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. He didn't scream, the only sound that left his throat was that of a stuttering denial.

Her arm lashed forward in a deadly premeditated movement and the dagger left her hand with a hiss, the silver blade spinning with deathly intent towards its frozen target.

The Prince choked slightly as the dagger embedded itself in the soft and vulnerable skin of his neck. His eyes looked down at the protruding handle in surprise rather than pain. He looked back up, his blue orbs filled with inconsolable fear as his blood began to seep out of the wound and stain his pale tunic. He crumpled like a sheet of paper, landing in an undignified heap upon the floor, whatever sound, be it scream or call for help died on his lips as he passed away.

She watched with an impassive face, before walking over and pulling the blade from the dead body. She wiped the bloodied weapon upon the fabric of her cloak and then slid it back into its resting place. She turned to go, sparing the corpse one last emotionless look before she slid back out of the window and vanished into the shadows where she belonged.

* * *

**_Another taste of the evil I breed,_**

_**Will level you completely…**_


	2. Sunset

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Escaflowne, or Dilandau or any lyrics that may appear within the fic…They should mostly be lyrics from The Used and Disturbed but if more jump in there…well I'll be sure to tell you about it!

**Now, ON WITH THE FIC!**

**Shadow Stealer**

**Chapter One: Sunset**

She sighed as she crouched in the darkened corner of the alleyway, her back resting against the dry bricks and her black wolf skull lowered so that no part of her face could be seen.

It had been three weeks since the night she had killed the Prince and things had backfired horribly. Turns out that her employer had confessed all as soon as he had realised that she had gone through with the killing, and unfortunately that had left her in the lurch. She couldn't pick up the money that the man owed her, nor could she go after new clients. Everyone was up in arms about the whole thing and a warrant had been put out for her arrest. There were guards everywhere, in every possible home in Zaibach, Deheria and all the smaller provinces that surrounded them.

It had made her life very difficult to live. Once or twice she had debated about whether or not she should move onto other places, like the rebuilt Fanelia, or Astoria, after all she hadn't been to those places in a good seven years.

But each time she had dragged her thoughts back, telling herself that all she had to do was to wait it out, sooner or later people would get tired of paying bills for soldiers and guards that weren't doing anything and they would dismiss it all. However, it was taking a long time for that to happen, and in doing so was making her very miserable.

She was tired and hungry.

Any normal assassin would act like an ordinary citizen during the day and probably take a night or two to rest in an inn or tavern, but she would not, could not do that. Doing that would mean taking off her wolf skull and doing that would mean walking into the world with her scars in full view.

She couldn't bear to have that horrible disfiguring mark across her face stared at as she walked about. The scars were three jagged silvery lines that ran diagonally down her face from above her right eyebrow to below the bottom left corner of her lip. It looked as if some great beast had slashed her face with its claws.

She despised the scars with a passion and to make matters worse she couldn't even remember where they had come from. She had had them as long as she could remember, ever since she woke up shivering and alone on the outskirts of Astoria. She had been young then, twelve maybe at most. That was seven years ago. She was older now and had cast away all the bits of broken memories that she had.

She had somehow known how to fight and how to hunt and to kill. It had surprised her, the first time she had killed someone, and she hadn't felt a single drop of remorse for it. Why should she care if she couldn't remember her first twelve years of life? People died all the time, it was better to live in the present rather than in the past.

Such an attitude had given her a reputation as a cold and uncaring girl. She didn't care she liked it that way. But that was also the reason that she couldn't go waltzing about in daylight with her scars showing, people everywhere remembered the little girl with the scars. That little girl had faked her death years ago, for her to reappear now; all grown up would certainly cause some aggravation. She could not allow that.

She had learned to live as an assassin, relying only on herself in times of need and the lifestyle suited her well. She knew all the time that people got hurt because they allowed themselves to care. She wasn't going to be one of those useless sacks of skin that existed only to feel pain.

She didn't need anybody.

* * *

_**You will release your life,**_

_**Forgetting what's forsaken,**_

_**The reason why you're alone again**_

* * *

****

People were hurrying past the mouth of the alleyway, chattering away like the animals they were. Their voices mixing together to create an unerring continuous flow of babble that she had neither the time nor the inclination to decipher. The only thing that concerned her was where her next pay check was coming from. With so little money she had had to resort to stealing to get her food. Not that she needed much anyway, it was better to eat less, because it was easier to keep in shape and plus it was awkward to run on a full stomach.

She dropped her head lower as she rested her arms on her kneecaps. It was a nice sunny day and she was stuck down one of the darkest alleys in the town. Well, she supposed it was better than being in a dungeon. Even down here, the cool summer breeze was drifting softly against her skin. It felt wonderful. She sighed.

She heard the sounds of a scuffle taking place near the mouth of the alley and she sucked in a breath and stilled. She mustn't look up, even though she might be tempted to. She must not look up. To do so could give away her position.

The shuffling of feet could be heard, and then the sharp stinging sound of a slap as it connected with the skin on someone's face. There was a hiss of pain and a muffled curse.

"What was that for!" muttered someone, a male, by her estimation, possibly around the age of twenty-five, "I was only saying what I heard!"

"Yes, well saying stuff like that in public could get you killed, especially with all these guards milling about. You know why they're here and if they even so much as catch a whisper of what you and those layabouts from the first floor barracks have been saying then we'll be in serious trouble." Snapped another, older and firmer male voice.

She frowned to herself, what on earth were they talking about? The only ones that had to be careful around the guards were assassins or those looking to hire…her eyebrows rose slightly. Could someone actually be thinking about hiring someone in a time like this? To try with so many guards around meant two things, the would-be-employer was desperate to kill someone, or it was a job that desperately needed doing in another state.

The first man mumbled some apologies, "Well, there ain't any truth in the rumours on the Vione anyway. Most are all born when the foot soldiers drink too much…" there was the sound of more shuffling, as if the speaker was nervous, or agitated.

There was a chuckle, "Well now, I never said that they were lies did I?" the older man cleared his throat and then lowered his voice, "Folken wants the assassin that killed the Prince to do a job for him."

There was a gasp and a few more footsteps as the men came further into the alleyway. "You mean, it's true? But I thought that the assassin they all talk about was merely a legend."

"I don't know myself was this assassin looks like. But I wager he must be good if he could kill the Prince without alerting the guards. Besides, no one near enough knows what he really looks like. People just say he's some sort of experiment that went wrong. Half man, half beast."

The other man snorted, "Anyone who says that is probably drunk!"

"Hey, one of the maid's in the Deheria Palace saw a two legged beast with the head of a great dog running like black lightning away from the royal wall." Claimed the other man, his tone rather indignant.

She clenched her fists. She hadn't realised that she had been seen. She knew that there were always rumours circulating about her and about what she looked like, each person though differently, each tale made her more horrifying and deformed than the last. She had heard that in parts of Zaibach she had been rumoured to have the head of a snake…though she had no idea where that particular interpretation had come from. What seemed to be most apparent was that no one thought she was female. She was always a man. Sexist pigs.

"She was probably hysterical. It was probably a Guymelef in the distance or something stupid like that. You know what women are like."

The first man muttered another curse, "Yeah well, whatever he looks like he better be up for what Lord Folken is planning. I hear its dangerous stuff. I hear that Folken has lost faith in the dragon slayers."

There was a muffled gasp, "You're kidding me?"

"Nope." The man shuffled further into the alleyway, "Something's up with them, apparently Dilandau has stopped obeying Stratogos as unquestioningly as before."

"Really? That is interesting." Murmured the other man, following his comrade into the dark, "So Lord Folken wants the assassin as some sort of replacement?"

She wrinkled her nose as the two men moved close enough to touch. They still hadn't noticed her still form in the darkness, but she feared that she would not be able to keep up herself hidden if they did not move away. The men practically reeked of ale and stale meat.

"I guess that's what he wants him for. I hear that he plans to heavily compensate the guy if he accepts." The man made a hacking sound and spat upon the floor, the spittle landing just a few inches away from one of her boots.

Her eyebrows rose fractionally, if there was a large amount of money in it she could be persuaded to take up job for a while. She had no idea what the infamous dragon slayers were actually like, with tales of their escapades being greatly exaggerated from town to town. It could be interesting.

Her hand curled around the hilt of one of her daggers and she kept her head bowed. She had to execute this moment perfectly in order to keep things under her control. There was no additional sound to drown out the sound her dagger leaving its sheath, so she would have only a few seconds to act before they realised that she was there. A few seconds should give her ample time to strike one down and deliver her message to the remaining one.

"Fair enough." Replied the younger man gruffly, "But who's to say that Lord Folken will ever even find this assassin? The man is like a shadow, he slips through everyone's nets. You've heard the stories, he's only known by those who already know him."

"Well, that makes no sense you idiot! Besides, if anyone can find away to contact this 'Shadow'…" he gave a short barking laugh at the name, "It will be Lord Folken."

* * *

**_You will release your life,_**

_**Joining with the Goddamn world,**_

_**Of the dead and the lonely**_

* * *

****

"Is that so?" as soon as they heard the chillingly dark whisper next to them, the two men gave startled cries and scrambled backwards.

The older of the two reached blindly out behind him as he stumbled backwards. His back hit the opposing wall as he looked up at the monster that had materialised out of complete shadow. He threw up his arms as he saw a flash of steel and heard the ringing of metal. He had but a second's glimpse of something more horrifying than anything he could ever imagine before a spray of something warm and wet splashed across his face, blinding him for a moment as he blinked it away. A moment later his friend slumped against him with an inarticulate moan. He shoved the younger man away in disgust and fear only to watch the body fall to the ground.

With a trembling hand he reached up and touched his face, the strange liquid transferring to his fingers. He looked at it with narrowed eyes for a moment before his mind registered what it was that he was gazing at. It was blood.

He let out a cry and shook his hand, before he looked around him wildly, tremors running up and down his bulky frame, "Demon…" he whispered into the alleyway as he glanced at the busy street that was not even twenty paces away.

"Close, but not quite." Whispered the voice next to his ear.

He swung around in surprise, but his eyes met only a darkened stretch of wall that had nothing before or on top of it. "Where are you?" he demanded in a shaky voice as he looked around himself again, the shadows on the alley seemed to be closing in around him, tightening their grip on his psyche and digging their claws in, reluctant to let him go. He could swear that he could see the dark and dangerous things writhing in the dark.

"You're wasting your time trying to find me." There was a deep chuckle and movement to his right, he looked but there was no one there, "I was planning on giving you a message to send to your dear Lord Folken, but I believe that I've had an epiphany. I can just get you to tell me where he'll be at sundown. That way it's easier for me. What do you say? Fancy giving me that information?" a ghostly touch brushed against his cheek and he jerked away from the wall in surprise, "Don't tell me you're shy…" whispered the voice in a mocking tone as the touch withdrew.

The man thought fast, if he answered he might just get out of the mess he was in alive, "Uh, Lord Folken will be at the Twisted Sickle Inn at sundown." He stuttered on a few of his words. Who wouldn't faced, or rather not faced, with such an unholy monster? Folken could look after himself it was every man for himself.

The voice from the shadow rang out again, a laughing lilt to its tone, and it sent shivers up the man's spine, "How readily you answered me. Have you no sense of loyalty to your commander?" there was a sigh, "What did you imagine would happen to you if you told me what I wanted to know? Did you think I would let you live?"

The man turned around full circle, trying to follow the voice as it moved around him in a deadly pattern, "I…I…" whether or not he actually had an ending to that sentence was never known because as the sound left his lips he felt a searing pain across his throat, and for one brief moment he was drowning in liquid warmth before he found he couldn't breathe. He suffocated on his own blood in seconds, choking back whatever he had been about to say, if anything at all.

* * *

**_You'll never leave alive,_**

_**Now do you think you're too damn good?**_

_**For the killing kind**_

* * *

****

She looked dispassionately at the two bodies. They would rot in filth, which in her eyes would not differ much from what they would do if they were still alive. Bloody useless wastes of skin and bone.

She was used to the scent of blood by now, it was around her constantly and she found it much more refreshing that walking through a field of daisies like some bratty princess. She raised her dagger to eyelevel and gazed critically at the dripping crimson liquid that marred its smooth surface.

This, Lord Folken, she had heard stories of Zaibach's Stratogos and she must say that she was eager to meet the man that was held so high by all the people of the nearby provinces. Of course, she had heard many more stories about the crazy pyromaniac that resided on the Vione with Folken. Dilandau Albatou, the cherry eyed albino who's thirst for bloodshed and power was rivalled only by his love of fire. Yes, she had heard stories all about him, most told to naughty children by their mothers as a warning. It would be interesting to see if even as small fraction of the rumours were true.

She would go to the Inn where Folken was due to be, she would take the job that he was offering and in turn she would see if she really was the best killer in the world. She wiped off some of the fresh blood from her blade with her gloved forefinger. She smiled ruefully, would it be best, she wondered, to make a good first impression. Taking her finger up she gently applied the blood to the tips of the wolf skull's teeth.

There was no way she would be intimidated, she was the best in the world, and if her would-be-employer didn't want to accept that then she would have to put the fear of God into him. Either than or she would scar him so much he would never be able to sleep soundly again. Her dark lips curled into a smile.

There were many that she had killed without causing bodily harm, sometimes it was enough just be seen and then she could watch as their physical and mental health rapidly deteriorated into obliqueness. No man was immune.

Every man be they beggars or warriors would quail at her presence. To hold such power gave her a rush that no drug, food or drink could ever supply. She breathed in, inhaling the scent of the rapidly drying blood and her smile widened. Tonight, tonight would be a night to remember.

She bent down slightly and gathered up the folds of her dark cloak in her hands. Until sunset then…

* * *

**_You will begin to cry,_**

_**Hearing the silence breaking,**_

_**You breathe alive,**_

_**But you are alone again…**_

* * *

****

Folken was not a man who liked to be kept waiting. Waiting, especially when he shouldn't have to, annoyed him beyond any possible recognition. He vowed that as soon as that waste of space he had employed to curb the rumours of his plans got back there would be hell to pay.

There was no way he was going to show his irritation by doing something as useless as pacing however; he would not stoop to such levels. At current he was resting against one of the far walls of the Twisted Sickle Inn, his arms crossed over his chest, though they were hidden underneath his large cloak. His eyes were closed and his head was slightly bowed, the candle and firelight from the lounge of the inn reflecting off of his spiky silvery-grey locks. The violet teardrop below his right eye was hidden the shadows of his face and his short eyelashes fluttered gently as he breathed in and out.

His lips were pressed together, it was more of a statement of his obvious silence than one of irritation though and he was sure that the people milling around him knew that. Said people were one or two civilians of the town he was searching. He didn't know them and didn't want to know then unless it was necessary, which it wasn't. There were a few Zaibach soldiers stationed at the door at there were one or two scouting the perimeters of the buildings.

It was a dangerous game being who he was in a time where the war against Astoria and Fanelia was still raging away, fermenting quietly under the peaceful façade that so many people strived to keep in place. Most civilians now chose to ignore all the petty skirmishes that went on around them, as if ignoring it would make it all go away. Dornkirk was still set on taking over Gaea, whether the people that served him still agreed with him or not. Lately Dornkirk had been getting very excited about something Folken couldn't quite understand, the old man kept babbling incoherently about some kind of weapon, what kind Folken wasn't sure.

Then, out of the blue a few weeks back Dornkirk had ordered him to find and employ the assassin that was known only as 'The Shadow'. The letter informing him to do so, which had been read aloud in the main chamber of the Vione, had upset Dilandau quite a bit and the fool had gone on a four hour rampage burning everything in sight, including one of his own dragon slayer's hair. Folken's brow furrowed into a frown, he could understand why Dilandau was annoyed, but there had been no need to go to that length.

After that little escapade he had had increased difficulty controlling the damn pyromaniac. He knew it wasn't Dilandau's fault, it was just the way he was, and it was just the way the scientists had made him.

He released a sigh and opened his eyes slowly. Mellow light flooded in and he resisted the urge to squint. He left his musings for a moment to take in his surroundings. He could hear the wind howling ferociously outside the windows, causing the wooden shutters to clang and crash against the stone walls loudly. Barmaids and servants were running back and forth holding high perilously full trays of food and tankards of ale. He estimated it to be around sunset, though with the harsh weather you probably couldn't tell if you looked outside. He slanted a glance to his left as a breeze whipped through the warm room, chilling him for a moment and blowing out four of the twelve candles that lit the room. His eyes narrowed.

Where did the breeze come from? A quick scan of the inn found one of the left hand windows had been propped open silently, and the wind whistled upon the glass pane and shook it gently so that it rattled in its frame. It had not been open before.

Folken flexed his fingers under his cloak, prepared for a quick attack. There had been a few, thirteen if he remembered correctly, attempts on his life since the new years had began a few months ago. It was getting quite bothersome.

He listened intently to the sounds of the room, the clicking of the staff's shoes was fading away as they began returning the empty glasses to the bar and shooing away the last of the customers that hadn't paid for a night's rest in one of the rooms. He could hear the barman humming to himself as he mopped up the kitchen, the sound carried all the way to his ears telling him that the man was a very loud person.

Another candle, this one on the other side of the room was suddenly extinguished swamping the far corner in darkness. Folken's eyes travelled to the area quickly, searching the shadows for something dangerous.

A barmaid hurried forwards suddenly, a lighting flint and match clutched in her hand. She was going to relight all the candles. She was wearing the regular black uniform that consisted of a long skirt and long sleeved shirt, her dark hair was pulled into a ponytail and she looked to be at least thirty. Far too old, in Folken's opinion, to be working in such a seedy tavern.

He wondered if he should have her halt and leave the place dark, but common sense told him otherwise, lighting the candles would flush out whoever was in the dark.

There was a long scratching sound and a flare as she struck the lighting flint and match together. A bloom of yellow light suddenly lit up the area. Followed by a shower of blood.

Folken stared down at the barmaid's body for a moment before bringing his gaze back up. At least the girl had managed to light the candle before she fell, though from where he was standing Folken was beginning to think it would have been better if the corner had been left in the dark.

A pair of red-brown eyes that burned more fiercely than the eyes of a beast stared at him from out of a large black lupine shaped head, glittering cleverly in the dim light. The black ears were furred and pointed forwards to catch all possible sound, but what Folken noticed most of all was the amount of fresh blood that covered and dripped from the jagged black teeth, the redness shining in the firelight. The black fur ran down the creature's back and curled around its waist. A long flowing black cloak covered its form from view though a black gloved claw gripped tightly around the handle of a bloody blade.

"What kind of creature are you?" Folken asked, his voice steady for he had seen many things in his life and this only rivalled some of them.

"Do you not fear me Folken Stratogos?" the creature hissed taking a slow step forward, its black head looming ominously close to him, as with each second more droplets of blood splashed against the ground.

Folken caught the creature's glare and held it, "No. I have met many other beasts far more dangerous that yourself."

There was a chuckle, "Whoever said I was a beast?" the creature fell silent as it inclined its head towards the puddle of violent red that it was leaving upon the floor, "I heard that you have need of my services."

"Who told you that?" he asked carefully, not knowing what the creature was up to, "Why would you think that."

The creature sighed quietly, "My informants sounded pretty sure. I believe one was trying to stop rumours about your plans floating around. The other, just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Folken's eyes widened fractionally, "You? You are the assassin?"

"You were expecting someone else?" questioned the rasping voice, "Or perhaps someone more human?" the black head lifted slightly as if to look upwards causing the blood to track new paths down its glossy surface.

Folken stared at the creature for a moment, "Are you the assassin?" he repeated slowly gazing at the beast with something between disgust and awe, "or not?"

The beast chuckled, "I am, but, I am many other things as well." As the words were formed the rasping bitter edge to the voice faded away leaving behind something a lot smoother, and a lot more feminine. The black head rose further and the dim light illuminated the pale human chin beneath the dark bone. Dark lips curved into a decidedly mocking grin.

Folken stood there stunned, words that had been on the tip of his tongue disappeared back down his throat, "Hmm." He muttered narrowing his eyes as he quickly regained his composure, "You're a woman."

"Not what you were expecting Folken?" she taunted taking another step towards him and replacing her dagger in the sheath at her waist as she moved.

Folken offered a wry smile, "I must admit I am surprised." He was silent for a moment and then his smile grew, "But I am not discouraged from hiring you. I doubt that many know of your gender." He mused quietly, "Would they still look for you if they did?"

She shrugged on shoulder, "Whether or not I am a woman, man, beast or anything else the disillusioned public can dream up doesn't matter in the long run. I can get the job done far more efficiently than anyone else." She flexed her fingers lazily, "And no, not many know of my gender."

Folken blinked at her coolly, "So why let me know?"

She gave a brittle laugh, "You are the only one in this godforsaken town willing to hire me, besides it would have been difficult otherwise." The lips lost their smile, "You would not have trusted me, had you thought me a beast. Most that employ me know how to attract my attention, you do not. It is pure luck that I managed to run into your two little men back in the streets, had I not I would not be here now." Her hands fell to her sides, "You would not have found me without attracting too much unwanted attention, besides I see this as a new challenge."

"Working for me? Or letting me know that you are a woman?"

"Both."

"I see." Replied Folken looking around the darkened room with renewed interest.

"So, what do you want me to do? Who do you want me to kill?" she asked, her tongue darting out and swiping across her lips once, taking up the small droplet of blood that had previously landed there.

Folken gave her a pointed look, "It is not I whom requires your skills, but the Emperor of Zaibach."

What happened next was like a change in the wind, taking place in seconds without warning or heed.

* * *

**_From the heart of darkness you call to me,_**

_**Spirit raging on, there is nothing I can do**_

* * *

****

The assassin took several very swift steps backwards, her head lowering as she melted into one of the half shadows, leaving only one half of her profile visible in the candlelight, "I do not work for royalty." She spat, her voice taking on a hissing quality that sounded like a cat that was backed into a corner.

"What happened to new challenges?" Folken said, deadpan.

She gave a feral hiss, "Too many things can go wrong when working for royalty. I'd be placing my own life into someone else's hands. I cannot allow that." The black fur ruffled over her shoulders and the sound of metal being drawn rang through the air.

Folken had the intelligence to know that he was now in a very dangerous situation. Something he had said, possibly mentioning Dornkirk's name had upset the girl so much that she had withdrawn into herself and was prepared to fight her way out of the corner she was in. She didn't seem bothered by the wind howling outside, or the fact that he had never been beaten in combat. She was going to take it all in her stride, "Your life would not be jeopardised." He reassured in a calm tone of voice, "You would do what he asked and then go."

"Forgive me if I don't trust you Folken." She snarled as she lowered herself down into a semi-crouch.

Folken watched her, perplexed as to what she thought she was doing, trying to rush him wasn't going to do much good but she didn't seem to care. He reached down and grasped his sword. Maybe she thought that he was unarmed…

Without warning she lunged forward, two flashes of steel shining out of the darkness around her and slashing downwards in deadly arcs. Folken's cloak was thrown aside as he raised his own weapon to block the two life threatening blows. Metal hit metal. He felt a jab to his stomach and for a moment his mouth opened in surprise at the thought of being struck down so easily, but he realised it was only the hilt of one of her blades that she had thrust backwards into him as she had pushed herself away from him with great violence and propelled herself towards the window that was still propped open.

He let out an infuriated yell as he spun around after her, only to witness the tail end of her cloak vanish into the darkness through the window after her. The pain of glass slammed shut against its frame and shattered into a million pieces, the glittering fragments showering onto the ground by his feet.

* * *

**_Nothing I can do,_**

_**For you are next to no one**_


End file.
